


Wish You Were Sober

by orphan_account



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Abuse of italics, Alex's POV, Alex's limp, Arguments, Conflict, Drunk Kissing, House Party, M/M, Pining, Songfic, Underage Drinking, Zach is kind of a dick in this, alex is a pretentious moody teen!, alex is confused as a result, alex is still pissed at winston, conan gray - Freeform, movie/song references, s04 e05, song: Wish You Were Sober (Conan Gray), the issue is that zach is literally an alcoholic and alex is collateral damage, zach dempsey: human Sequoia, zach is impulsive and doesn't know what he wants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24811462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Zach stares at me, still loose-limbed and wobbly. "Whatdidyou want me to do?""What?"He sways towards me, eyes half-lidded. "What did you want me to do instead?"
Relationships: Zach Dempsey/Alex Standall, mention of Chloe Rice/Zach Dempsey
Comments: 11
Kudos: 70





	Wish You Were Sober

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is inspired by Conan Gray's song Wish You Were Sober, which I recommend listening to either before or after reading this depending on your preference :) This fic is basically the party from episode 5 but rewritten to match up with the song, so basically an alternate version of how the party could've gone with some of the same events/dialogue mixed in.
> 
> If you like this, I posted another fic about these two last week called It's All Over Now, Baby Blue! There are a lot of little references to it in this one :) It's from Zach's perspective and covers the entire season and gets very philosophical lol

  
  


_Nineteen but you act twenty-five now_

_Knees weak, but you talk pretty proud, wow_

_Ripped jeans and a cup that you just downed_

_Take me where the music ain't too loud_

_Trade drinks, but you don't even know her_

_Save me 'till the party is over_

_Kiss me in the seat of your Rover_

_Real sweet, but I wish you were sober_

—*—*—

It's 4:34 AM, I'm staring out the dark glassy panes of my window at nothing in particular, and I think I've finally figured out the perfect way to describe how happiness works: it is inherently unattainable. It is defined by its un-attainability, in fact, but most people don't realize it. Unless we were to, like, completely restructure society to not be a late-stage capitalist nightmare world, or something (which I'm gonna go ahead and deem unlikely), we're all just gonna be miserable forever. I'm pretty used to it, by now, anyway. I'm practically a Morrissey-level expert at navigating the waters of adolescent melancholy at this point (except without the racism part.)

Not so good at navigating normal waters, though. It's been a week since I almost drowned and I keep dreaming about it, waking up drenched in sweat and gasping for breath like I'm still underwater, being pulled down by a face I thought I'd never see again. That's why I'm awake right now. I can hope that the dreams'll go away, but I don't think I _can_ know if they will, not without talking to a professional, which I'd rather avoid, for now. I just wanna feel normal and finish my senior year like a _normal person_ would. 

Honestly it's just another fun addition for my ever-expanding repertoire of trauma-inducing events. I'm practically a walking DSM-5 at this point. 

I don't blame Zach, even if he was the one who got me drunk at like three pm on a tiny boat in the middle of a lake. He was also the one who saved me, after all......more times than I can count. He's good at that; he can get me just close enough to the edge to teeter and almost fall off, close enough to the edge to feel _alive,_ for once, then he always knows right when to pull me back in before I miscalculate and plummet to the ground. He's, like, simultaneously one of the kindest people I know and one of the only people I know who actually knows how to push me, who isn't afraid I'm too breakable to handle it. Even _before_ his leg got fucked up he was the only one who seemed to get it, to not treat me like a cripple who might go off the deep end again lest anyone decides to be honest or real with me. I dunno, maybe I'm still putting him on too high of a pedestal. It's this kind of thinking that made me kiss him last month, and we all saw how that ended up. It's a memory that stubbornly refuses to stop flashing behind my eyelids every time I let my mind wander, making me want to curl up into a tiny ball of pure, unadulterated self-hatred. In classic Zach Dempsey fashion, though, he took it like a champ and hasn't really made fun of me for it since, even when things were awkward in the few weeks afterwards. Even when he's less stable than I've ever seen him before, he's still more steady than anybody else I know. He just....has that effect, where even if you do something _really stupid_ or fuck up _monumentally_ it feels like he won't abandon you for it, he'll just maybe tease you about it sometimes. He's like a human Sequoia, or something. 

He's the one who made me start thinking about happiness so much, anyway, because of what he said on the boat. Happiness makes you unhappy, pursuing happiness will never work out, you gotta be okay with being unhappy, etc. I always just kind of thought it was a _me_ thing, that I just wasn't lucky enough to be built to be happy, but just look at Zach: 6'3" and well off and handsome and kind and smart and with people who love him, but he's still....where he is right now. I'm starting to feel more and more like either happiness itself is a scam, or that because of what we've been through normalcy is just completely out of the cards for us at this point. Probably both. 

I thought maybe Winston was something that could bring me happiness, and it really did feel _close,_ for a little bit, but, well, you can't tell you were wearing rose colored glasses until you take them off, I guess. 

The sun starts to peek over the mountains. I have school in two hours. I really need to sleep. Fuck. 

  
  
  


—*—*—

  
  
  
  


I'm leaving class when I feel someone grab my shoulders from behind. I immediately know it's Zach. He's been doing a lot of that, lately. 

"Heeey! So, we need more Zach and Alex time—how about I stay over tomorrow night?"

"I'm not gonna kiss you again if that's what you're hoping." 

I definitely learned my lesson, there. Even if I still want to sometimes. I'm just glad it didn't irreparably fuck things up between us. I can even joke about it now! Progress. 

"I'm glad that we can joke about this! It's a good sign... Progress! But seriously, tomorrow night."

"Uhm, yeah, I guess!"

"Perfect, yes! Because the deal is we're going to the Find a Drink party to find many, _many_ drinks. And my mom set up cameras in my room so I need a cover story and a place to sleep it off." 

Oh. 

By 'Zach and Alex time' I guess I kind of thought he meant the kind of stuff we used to do. Movies, video games, listening to records, that kinda thing. I know he probably thinks that stuff is mind-numbingly boring, especially now, but...it's still my favorite stuff to do with him. Also I really, really, _really_ don't want to go to the Find a Drink Party with _any_ of those people. I have had, like, zero good experiences with parties. Didn't Einstein say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results?

"Well you can have the cover story, and the guest room, but I'm gonna pass on the party, because I am anti-people currently."

"And I get that buuut _maybe_ that's why you should go."

The distracting dread of "oh god please don't force me into more tedious social interaction" passes and his words from earlier finally register.

"...Wait a minute, your mom put up cameras in your room?"

"That's only part of it, but don't even get me started. Anyways—I'm picking you up at eight, and if you make any attempt not to go to this party, I will actually come and pick you up. At eight." He attempts to waggle his eyebrows. "That's hot, right? I'll actually come and, like, physically...pick you up? Come on! We can have hot banter, right?"

What is he even talking about right now? I'm honestly afraid to ask. And I'm also resolutely _not_ thinking about how he's picked me up before and he probably could again, if he wanted to. Nope. That mental door is very firmly closed. 

"...How am I even friends with you?"

"Uhhh I'm handsome, charming, and I saved you from drowning. Eight o'clock!"

He's got a point there. I sigh, beginning the trek to Econ. Maybe it won't be so bad and I can sneak off to hide somewhere, or something. Knowing what Zach's been like lately he'll _definitely_ be drinking, so I'll have to be his DD. That's fine, I'm not big on the idea of not being in full control of myself at one of these parties, anyway. I don't know why I don't just make up an excuse not to go. Zach's just really good at getting me to say yes to things. Like I said: he lures me to the edge then catches me before I can fall all the way off. 

  
  


—*—*—

  
  


He's outside before eight o'clock even hits.

I take a few extra minutes to get ready, resigning myself to my fate, and he gives me a mock stern look as I slide into the seat of his car at 8:04. 

"Cutting it close, there, Alex, I was getting ready to actually go in there and pick you up." 

I give him a blank look. "You know, you might not be as charming as you think you are if you have to threaten violence to get me to go with you." 

"It's not necessarily a _violent_ threat…" he says, doing that thing with his eyebrows again. 

I can't tell if he actually thinks he's charming or not. I genuinely don't get how so many girls like him if this is really the best game he has to offer, though. I blink at him. He's grinning expectantly and still trying to waggle his eyebrows, eyes crinkled with smile lines. Okay, maybe I do get it. 

I cover my face with my hands. "God, let's just go."

  
  
  


—*—*—

  
  
  


We've been here for twenty minutes and Zach is already being…kind of a lot. I really don't know why I'm surprised. He already disappeared once and came back five minutes later declaring that he already found his drink, which is something called a "Z-Man Rocks". I didn't ask. 

"Come on, man, you gotta try _something!"_ he says, pushing me into the kitchen with his hands on my shoulders.

"Do I, though?" I say, unenthusiastic.

He quirks a grin at me. "Just wait. I'm gonna blow your mind." 

I watch him mix a startling amount of drinks together into one solo cup, including rum, orange juice, vodka, and what looks like tomato juice (???)

He hands it to me, an expectant look on his face like he's a puppy who just brought me a bone instead of a fully grown nineteen-year-old who just brought me a suspiciously sludge-colored alcoholic mixture. I sigh. "Fine, but just this one." he nods solemnly. 

I take a hesitant sip. It's....pretty bad. I wrinkle my nose. "God, Zach, this needs, like, half a bottle of grenadine to even be salvageable." 

"Ungrateful." He says, taking the cup from me then turning and weaving through the kitchen, shouting about a "very important mission for grenadine" before disappearing from sight. I'm almost certain he will forget about the mission before it's completed and disappear for at least half an hour, but I appreciate the thought. 

  
  


—*—*—

  
  
  


It's been twenty more minutes and I'm pretty sure Zach isn't coming back. I'm alternating between staring out the kitchen window and contemplating if it would be rude to climb through to safety and scrolling through twitter on my phone, studiously avoiding too much conversation with the people milling around me. Most of the people in the kitchen are either stoned and looking for snacks or just grabbing more alcohol to bring to wherever their drinking games are going on, so I'm pretty free to mind my own business without too much interruption. I tell myself that if Zach isn't back in five minutes I'll go find somewhere better to hide, preferably somewhere dark where the music isn't blasting too loudly to hear myself think. Also, a TV would be a plus. 

Another five minutes pass. I decide to give him five more. _Then_ I'll leave the kitchen. Am I whipped? 

The white girls next to me are loudly singing along to an Azealia Banks song, n-words included. Of course. 

Five more minutes. I sigh, consider crawling through the window one more time, then push away from the counter, effectively putting myself in the path of a guy who spills what smells like whiskey all over me. Awesome. Very happy about this turn of events. The guy is awkwardly rubbing a paper towel on my sleeve when Zach returns, noticeably grenadine-less and holding an almost empty beer bottle. I don't have time to be annoyed before he's grabbing me by the shoulders (yet again) and pushing me ahead of him. The kitchen is much emptier now, so it's easier for us to weave. He lifts a hand from my shoulder and sniffs it. "Why are you covered in whiskey?"

"Ask the kid from Hillcrest who dumped it on me." 

Zach lets out a sound that can only be described as a cackle and opens the door to the walk-in pantry, pushing me inside (I stumble, of course) and closing the door behind us. It's dark except for the light creeping through the crack under the door, and the music outside is slightly quieter, now, echoing through the walls. I fumble along the wall for a light. He finds it before me and flicks it on. 

"Um, Zach?"

He giggles. He _definitely_ smells like weed. "Sorry, man, they're about to do the Monty thing outside and Diego was looking at me like he would kick my ass if I stayed out there, so..."

"...and we are in the pantry now because...?"

He giggles again. "I'm hungry. And they'll never find us here." his voice is mock-ominous like he's telling a ghost story. Better than more of the "hot banter" he could've resorted to instead, I guess. 

"I kind of feel like they just wanted you to go inside and weren't planning on actually searching this entire party for you once you did, but...."

"You can never be too careful, Alex." he says solemnly before poking curiously at a can of creamed corn. 

I heave a sigh like I'm exhausted just listening to him, but it's more fond than anything else. I can't actually stay annoyed with him. He's still in the fun-impulsive-party-Zach phase of the night, where he acts like everybody's best friend and giggles like a little kid after everything you say. He has this weird wisdom, too, like somehow he's unlocked the universe's secrets and he wants nothing more than to show them to _you_ specifically. I'd say he's one more beer away from either getting meditative and sad, reckless and pissy, or both. It's usually both. I decide to capitalize on this while I can. "Zach... we don't _have_ to be here, you know. We could always go somewhere else where we don't have to, like, hide in pantries and shit." I'm probably trying too hard to sound casual. I'm not sure if he notices, but he looks up from inspecting an old box of pasta and arches an eyebrow.

"Alex, I don't think you should be allowed to leave this party until I see you make an _actual effort_ to have fun. So far all I've seen you do is relegate yourself to the corner like you always do." 

I sniff. "I _like_ corners. I was just saying we could, like, find another rooftop or something. I dunno. It could still be fun." I definitely sound defensive. And probably like a kid who isn't getting his way. And also probably like a jealous girlfriend. He takes a thoughtful bite of a chip. 

"I think you'd have more fun if you were drunk like _literally everybody else here."_ He says, downing the rest of his beer and hiding the empty bottle behind a box of goldfish before pulling his flask out of his jacket and taking a swig from that, as well. I'm not even surprised.

I stare at him. "Well, that's not going to happen, so..."

He sighs. "What happened to 'fuck it all?'"

"Oh, you mean the thing I said right before I almost drowned?"

"Well I didn't _almost_ save you, I _did_ save you, which means that 'fuck it all' still stands."

"I'd say it still stands more in a general sense, not in a sense that's gonna make me okay with hanging out with people I don't even like or driving you home drunk. Am I the _only one_ who remembers what happened to Jeff?"

He actually looks affected by my words, which is nice. But mostly he just looks annoyed, which is less nice. "Look, just because you want to go find another rooftop so you can try to kiss me again, or whatever—" 

My ears burn. "Fuck off, man." I move to get past him but the door opens and an underclassman who I vaguely recognize blinks at us blearily before dissolving into giggles. "Oh, shit! Sorry, boys! Be safe!" She gives an exaggerated wink and attempts to close the door but I stick my hand out to grab it, pushing past Zach and the girl and disappearing into the crowd. Now seems like a _great_ time to find that dark quiet room.

  
  


—*—*—

  
  


I end up in the finished basement. Thankfully it's way less crowded down here save for a pool table with at least ten people all attempting to play the same game. I slip past them into a guest room thankfully not occupied by any other teenagers groping each-other and flop onto the bed. There's no TV, so I while away an indefinite amount of time on my phone and try not to let myself think too hard about anything. I still want to stay because even if Zach is being a dick I still promised he could stay at my house and I'm not going to go back on that. Plus he needs _someone_ with a vested interest in making sure he doesn't do anything too stupid. That doesn't mean I'm going to willingly spend any more time with those people upstairs just for his benefit, though. I'm sure he's having the time of his life with a bunch of strangers right now, anyway. I really don't even need to be here. 

I decide I should probably go back upstairs and look for him after an hour. I have to dodge even more potential drink-spillers and have to politely decline participating in two different drinking games, but I eventually spot him up on the upper floor, talking to Chloe. Fuck. I can't tell what they're saying from here, but I watch in muted horror as he tries to kiss her and she gently pushes him away, eyes big and sad as she puts her hand on his arm. He shrugs like he didn't even care to begin with, but it isn't quite convincing. He's Zach— _of course_ he cares. I watch his face as she walks away: a light goes out behind his eyes, like that was his last bit of hope and now it's gone for good. I make my way up the stairs. 

"Uh, Hey, Zach." I say from behind him.

"Alex! Welcome back to the land of the living!" He slings an arm around my shoulders like nothing happened and gives me a noogie until I shake him off. 

"Was that Chloe…?" I know it was, of course. 

"Nope." He smiles broadly in a way that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"I'm guessing you don't want to talk about it."

"Right now all I _want_ is another drink and an extra-friendly Hillcrest girl, and if I can't find one, I guess you'll do." 

He doesn't even attempt an eyebrow waggle before he drags me back to the kitchen, this time filling his cup with straight bourbon. I wrinkle my nose just picturing the taste. 

The same girl from the pantry reappears, face flushed and giggling with her friend. "Looks like _you two_ made up! Maybe now he can actually have fun." She stage whispers the last part to Zach behind her hand like I'm not here.

I contemplate the dignity of a window escape for the third time as Zach says "Oh, that's still pretty unlikely. More for me, though!" He grabs the drink from her hand and tilts his head back, downing what's left of it and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

The girl giggles some more and playfully punches Zach's arm, grabbing his own drink. He tries to grab it back but she sidesteps out of his way. "Only fair!" 

"Alright, but you have to drink it in one." He's leaning towards her, now, lips pulled up in a smirk. Ah, there's that smarmy Zach charm. She pinches her nose and tilts her head back, making a truly unflattering face as she attempts to down the whole cup and gives up halfway through, playfully pushing Zach back into the counter with her hands on his chest. I think I can hear a Post Malone song playing in the other room. Is this Hell? Or at least Purgatory?

Suddenly I can hear gasps and punching sounds from the other room. Zach and I look at each-other and sigh in unison. "Clay."

  
  


—*—*— 

  
  


Zach is the one who pulls Clay off of the kid he's beating the shit out of, and I am suddenly very, very tempted to make a _Christmas Story_ reference. I refrain. The worst part is the way Winston looks from Clay, to Zach, to me, a small smile playing at his lips, like he's figured something out. Zach may be smarmy sometimes, but at least he's not reminiscent of a sentient ball of slime. Is that mean? Good. 

We try to pull Clay into the bathroom to clean him up but he doesn't want us to, and keeps pestering Zach about something he promised. 

I pause. "What did you promise?"

"I told him he could drive the Audi after he lost his v-card." The corner of his lip pulls up in a smile.

I turn to Clay, grinning. _"Did you…?"_

He grins back, nodding like a madman. 

"Good for you, man! You're, like, definitely too drunk to drive the Audi, though." I say, aware I'm probably dashing his hopes and dreams.

His face falls and he points at Zach. "You promised, man." 

Zach turns to me. "Dude, I would be facilitating the whole time, it'd be fine." 

I stare at him. "Hmmm, what was it that happened the last time you two got drunk together again? Oh, right! You broke into a frat and _he_ got into a fight with a guy over his girlfriend." 

Clay scowls. "I'm right here, man."

I scrub at my hair. "Look, I just don't think it's a good idea."

"C'mon, man, it'll be fine. You don't even have to come, if you don't want to. You're kiiiinda being a buzzkill right now." Zach says. 

God, am I the only fucking rational person here? 

"Fine, so sorry for _killing your buzz_. Congrats again, Clay." I pat him on the shoulder and do my best attempt at turning on my heel. No need to sneak out the window when the front door's right there. 

—*—*—

  
  


I _maybe_ didn't think this through. My leg's okay enough to leave my cane at home, most days, but that doesn't mean that I can walk the six miles back to my house from here. I've only gone, like, five blocks and my leg is starting to really ache. It's better than going back there to try to find Zach again, though. At least I brought my headphones. I pause to scroll through my Spotify and a pair of headlights suddenly illuminates the quiet suburban streets in front of me. I can hear the gentle purr of an engine slowly coming up behind me but not passing. I start to walk again, refusing to look behind me, but I can feel myself starting to limp. 

The car pulls up beside me, Zach leaning out the window. "Come on, Alex."

I grit my teeth and keep walking, trying to hide my limping as best as I can. I can tell I look stupid. "Jessica's driving Clay home. She's _not_ happy and I'm pretty sure I owe her twenty bucks for it. Just get in." 

I slow to a stop, setting my jaw. The night is quiet save for the purr of Zach's car and the distant chirping of crickets. I consider my options: Zach probably still needs a place to sleep and I really don't want him doing any more driving. Also my leg fucking _hurts._

I sigh and walk over to him. "Fine, but I'm driving."

He holds his hands up, blinking blearily. "Alright, alright." He hands me the keys and clambers over into the passenger seat, bumping his head on the roof of the car in the process. I wait for him to get settled, complaining about his head the entire time. After he clips his seatbelt we just look at each-other for a minute, silent and steady. I still think about kissing him, sometimes, when he looks at me like that. Even when I'm mad at him. I swallow and look away, silently handing him my phone to plug into the aux. 

He seems to know not to argue in favor of his own music and shuffles one of my driving playlists, giving us something to fill the silence rather than conversation. I don't really feel like talking to him when he's like this, anyway.

Almost ten minutes pass before he clears his throat. "It, uh, _was_ Chloe."

"Really?" I can't keep the sarcasm out of my voice, but he doesn't seem to notice.

"Yeah. She's got a new boyfriend and wanted me to meet him." He takes another swig from his seemingly bottomless flask.

"Oh shit. I'm sorry, man. Really." I'm so bad at this kind of thing. 

I can feel Zach shrug. "Nah, it's fine. I was the one ghosting her, anyway. I knew it wasn't gonna work out." 

"Well, I'm sure she still cares about you."

He doesn't respond and I glance over at him. He's leaning his head on the window, streetlights passing over his face in rippling waves. 

We pull up in front of my house, me limping to the door and him wobbling because of the alcohol. 

He pauses on the porch. "Is your leg okay?" 

"Yeah, it'll be alright tomorrow. It's your fault, though. I was _trying_ to make a point and you didn't rescue me until I'd already walked, like, five blocks."

He points at me. "I _knew_ you wanted me to come after you." 

"Yeah, well, sorry to cut you and Clay's post-coital celebration short." 

"Dude, when you say it like that it sounds like _I'm_ the one who took his v-card." He shakes his head like he's trying to clear a horrible mental image away.

"Oh, it wasn't you?" 

He bumps me with his shoulder. "Shut _up,_ man."

"What? I'm sure he would've shown you a truly magical 45 seconds."

We devolve into giggles and I take advantage of the silence afterwards to clear my throat, ducking my head. "Listen, you get why I didn't want you out driving with Clay, right?" 

He stares at me, still loose-limbed and wobbly. "What _did_ you want me to do?"

"What?" 

He sways towards me, eyes half-lidded. "What did you want me to do instead?" 

My voice sounds meek. "Um, not crash?"

"That all?" His voice is lower. He leans closer. Everything is going way too fast, all of a sudden. 

"Um, yes?"

"I know what you want me to do, Alex." I have no chance to respond because then he's kissing me, freezing me to my spot in shock. I know it doesn't mean anything, that he's drunk, that I should push him off, but it's so, so hard to. He smells like the cologne he's worn all year and tastes like the sharp, dark taste of alcohol. I lift my hands to his chest and I'm about to push him off when he pulls away first, lips parted and breath sped up. "That's it, isn't it? What you want?"

"I…no, I would never ask for something like that, Zach, I've already apologized like a million times for that night, I…" I'm stammering like an idiot, now, I know I am, but I feel so thrown off guard and I have absolutely no idea what he just did that for. The tiny, flickering flame of hope I thought I'd long-since smothered is threatening to relight. We're still standing on the porch, moths fluttering around the dim light next to the door. 

"Why so nervous? I didn't say I don't want it, too."

"But _why?_ I'm starting to think you were serious when you said if you didn't find a Hillcrest girl I'd have to do." It's mostly intended as a joke, but, well…

He doesn't answer, just shakes his head to himself and lifts his hand, slowly pushing it into the hair at the nape of my neck. What the fuck is going on? I open my mouth to answer but he kisses me again, sweeter this time. I almost go pliant in his arms but I force myself to pull back. 

"Zach, you're very, very drunk right now and you're going to feel stupid about this tomorrow." I say firmly. 

"Says who?" 

"I promise you'll agree with me when you wake up."

His hand is still in my hair and it is _very_ hard to focus. His eyes are still half-lidded and his words are slurring at the ends. "And I bet I won't, but whatever. So you _don't_ want me to stay over?" He sounds like he's more than willing to try and change my mind. I can't let him. 

I look down and swallow. "You can still have the guest room." 

He sighs, dropping his hand and stepping back. It's suddenly much easier to breathe, but my chest is still tight. I pull my keys out of my pocket and open the door. He steps inside and immediately heads towards the hallway, not saying anything or stopping to wait for me. He only turns back to look at me once, stopping outside of his door at the end of the hall. He's barely visible in the shadows but I can _feel_ his eyes on me for a long moment before he slowly turns back around and closes the door behind him with a soft click. 

  
  


I escape to my room and flop onto my bed, covering my face with my hands. I can still taste him, warm and dark and breathless and just like the night I kissed him in January. 

Yup. Happiness is fucking unattainable, all right. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
